RHEA
PRESENT
His eyes never leave mine.
I make damn sure of it.
I hadn’t even been certain he’d be here—this was meant to be reckless fun, nothing more. A provocation. I did hesitate, briefly, at the thought of getting Marek into even more trouble, but technically? I wasn’t breaking any rules.
He said no dancing.
He never said what kind.
And if a woman wants to wear next to nothing, climb a pole, and move like sin under flashing lights—who is any man to stop her?
It’s a coincidence, really. One of the dancers called in sick. Her outfit was already here. Brand new. Practically waiting for me.
Now, though, coincidence feels like a lie I tell myself.
I look toward the shadowed booth.
Storm-grey eyes catch mine instantly, sharp and unblinking. The kind of gaze that doesn’t look away
